


Territory

by gwendolynflight, scribblemoose



Series: Sniper Slut in Tokyo [2]
Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-07
Updated: 2003-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwendolynflight/pseuds/gwendolynflight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	Territory

The sun rose over Tokyo. It's shy rays crept through Yohji's north-facing window, flooding slantwise the tangled figures sprawled across Yohji's Western four-poster. They were naked, tumbled together like puppies beneath a corner of sheet or swath of blanket, nothing that would serve to conceal. Squall stirred as the indirect light kissed his closed lids and washed his pale skin golden; he writhed his head across the crumpled pillow, burrowing beneath Yohji's arm. Yohji's night-accustomed eyes were already safely tucked between Squall's side and the mattress. Irvine just stretched like a cat as the light touched him, arms working above his head as he yawned, and then rolled loosely onto his side.

Aya looked away. They looked comfortable. Relaxed. He couldn't understand the reaction. He huddled into the warmth of his old sweater, carefully not watching the bed.

They were a distraction. They were dangerous.

They were the best night he'd ever had.

No. He shook his head, sharply, trying to dislodge the thought. He loved Yohji. However stupid the older assassin could be, he loved him.

The other two, Irvine and… Squall. They were dangerous. They would have to go.

And if the thought hurt, there was no sign of it on his coldly-perfect face.

Irvine stretched again, turning onto his back once more as Squall grumbled, shifted, and finally raised a sleep-tousled head. He looked around for a moment, seeming a bit befuddled, confusion tracing his scarred brow and storm-colored eyes, before he spotted Aya in his seat in the window. He scowled. Aya glared back. Squall's eyes flashed silver for a moment, and suddenly he smiled.

It wasn't much of a smile, though larger than anything Aya ever managed these days, small and somehow softer and sweeter than all the grins Yohji wore. Sincere. That was the difference. It was sincere.

Aya's heart fluttered, and he looked away. The sun was higher, and it fingered through the early mist, gilding the storefronts and distant treetops in the park by the Magicbus.

The sheets rustled behind him, and the bedframe creaked, and he turned his head slightly to see Squall gently working his way from beneath Yohji, a task made more difficult since Irvine had rolled over again, throwing his arm and one leg across Yohji, who slept on like the dead. Squall looked faintly annoyed, and Aya almost smiled.

Almost.

They were still a security risk. He wasn't going to forget that.

Squall crossed the tatami floor almost soundlessly, his bare feet rustling faintly over the mats. Aya watched him approach, body long and pale and strong in the golden light, and he felt a sudden flash of heat as he remembered /I was inside this man last night/.

Squall stopped a few feet away, hands held loosely at his sides, feet planted, eyes filled with a similar heat. His cock was stirring, and Aya felt his own lust rise in response.

"Come back to bed," Squall said quietly, his voice almost a monotone. Aya looked away, _not_ watching the stretch and liquid slide of muscle beneath pale skin. Skin as pale as his own, but dark hair, changeable eyes. Earth and sea to his flame. He wouldn't think on it.

Squall's hand touched his shoulder. He didn't move, feeling the warm thin fingers through the thick raglan wool.

"We're not a risk," Squall said abruptly. Aya turned on him, violet eyes blazing as his thoughts were spoken to him. His hand went to Squall's throat, but the other man didn't move.

"What do you know?" he growled, feeling the pulse strong and steady beneath his fingers. How did this man not feel fear?

"Nothing," Squall said in his 'whatever' voice. "But you aren't built like a florist. Those are not muscles for lifting and carrying, or muscles meant for show. You've used a sword, and used it to kill."

"You shouldn't know this," Aya returned, his own mask of ice slipping into his voice.

Squall relaxed just a bit, and smiled again.

"I see myself in you," Squall explained, apparently not at all bothered by the potentially killing grip at his throat. "You are thinking what I've thought a hundred times before. Brooding over here, alone, worrying about the ones you must protect." His eyes clouded then, as though the memories had swarmed up in them. "Wondering where the next attack will come from."

"Yes," Aya agreed, his own eyes vague and lost in memories of smoke and flame. His grip had loosened, and his fingers rested lightly against Squall's skin, in an almost caress. Squall's eyes cleared.

"We are not a threat," he repeated, his voice a bit flatter than such reassurances required. "I would be a friend."

Aya's eyes widened, incredulous. "A friend? Why? You don't even know me!"

Squall slowly covered Aya's hand at his throat with his own. "Because I like you," he said, simply. "I don't feel like you're a stranger." He took Aya's palm and kissed it.

A chill quivered up Aya's spine. "The last man who told me that is dead," he said flatly. He found his fingers twining with Squall's; he stared at his traitorous hand, unwilling to accept the sympathy he knew would be in Squall's eyes.

"It's your choice," said Squall as if he didn't really care, "but it looks to me as if you have enough on your mind. We're _not_ a threat. Don't deny yourself comfort because of fear." He rubbed his jaw softly along Aya's hand, distinctly feline. "Irvine taught me that," he added. "He's not as dumb as he looks." Another smile.

"I'm not afraid," said Aya, too quickly.

"Good," said Squall simply, and took one step closer.

Aya realised his heart was pounding; it was getting harder to think. He was acutely aware of Squall's scent, outdoors and musk, flooding his brain with memories of last night, of sliding inside that body and losing himself in bliss.

He wanted it again. He wanted to taste that porcelain skin, to feel that strong, hard body against his. His cock throbbed painfully in the constriction of his jeans, and his breath was already coming short. He curled his fingers tightly around Squall's, his knuckles white, and then Squall was leaning towards him, slowly, as if frightened of startling him, like a cat about to pounce on a bird.

With an anguished cry Aya pulled Squall to him and kissed him hard, squeezing his eyes shut at the delicious pleasure of Squall's naked body against his clothed one, of Squall's strong arm looping easily around his waist. Squall's hand slid slowly under Aya's sweater, long fingers stepping up his spine. The brooding voice in Aya's head was silent now: at that moment he didn't care who Squall was, or what he knew, or where he came from. He just wanted, _needed_ this body, and the gentle, determined presence that drove it. Their kiss softened to the slightest brush of lips and tease of tongue, and Squall sighed softly, drawing back to pull Aya's sweater over his head. The soft wool caught on Aya's earring; Squall freed it deftly, and ran his index finger and thumb down the cool metal.

Aya tensed, waiting for the question, but it never came. Squall just dipped his head to kiss Aya's neck, dropping his sweater to the floor, nuzzling the soft skin under his ear, and worked steadily to undo his pants.

Aya glanced towards the bed as Squall pushed his jeans over his hips and down his thighs. Yohji was still fast asleep, his face burrowed between two pillows, Irvine curled up against him, rust-coloured hair drifting over Yohji's back. Looking so beautiful together. Somehow they seemed to have taken over the whole bed between them, easily extending long limbs and bodies to make use of the space Squall and Aya had left behind.

"That's better," Squall murmured, as Aya stepped gracefully out of his jeans, naked now, gasping at the heat of Squall's body, the urgent press of their cocks against each other. Squall kissed him, softly at first, like the first time, almost innocent, but warming quickly when Aya responded wholeheartedly, his mouth soft and willing, tongue sliding between Squall's lips. Squall was teasing Aya's nipple with his fingers, alternately stroking and tweaking the tight, sensitive skin, jumping just a little as Aya ran his hands down the elegant curve of his spine and over firm buttocks. Squall pressed his body closer still, kissed him deeper. Still tormenting Aya's nipple with one hand, he slid the other between their bellies to wrap his fingers round both their cocks, grunting approval as Aya's slender hand joined his. They stroked steadily, hips thrusting flesh to flesh in time.

Squall broke their kiss to toss his head back, a smile spreading across his face, cheekbones painted rose-pink with lust. Aya explored the hollows of his collarbone with the tip of his tongue, licking tiny circles around the base of his throat and up his neck. He combed his fingers through Squall's dark, silky hair, not quite as long as Yohji's but incredibly soft and smelling so good…

"Aya. Want you. Now."

_Oh God_… He remembered that from last night too, the way Squall had asked, pleaded, and eventually begged to be fucked…

"Maybe," he teased, "in a while," squeezing their cocks together hard enough to make Squall moan deep in the back of his throat.

"No," said Squall, opening his eyes to capture Aya's heated gaze, in a voice used to command. "Now."

He pushed Aya back against the wall, between the dresser and the bookcase, firmly, not quite roughly. Aya's temper flared and he was within an instant of hitting out at the other man's presumption, but his anger was gone the moment he caught Squall's expression: pure, hungry lust, eyes glinting silver, lips damp and slightly parted, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

He looked beautiful.

Aya pulled him close, as if he were still in charge, sealing Squall's mouth with his own, running his hands over alabaster skin and hard muscle.

Squall finally came up for air, trailed a trembling finger across Aya's jaw.

"Wait," he said, turning briefly back to the bed. It only took him a moment to find what he was looking for, and he returned to hand Aya the fat tube. The cap was still half flipped from last night; Aya impatiently skimmed the sticky overflow off with his thumb, cursing Yohji for his carelessness, as usual, and squeezed a blob of cool gel into his hand.

He reached down to slick his cock, but Squall caught his wrist.

"Me," he said. "Want to fuck you."

Something obviously happened to this guy's vocabulary when he was on heat, Aya thought. He wondered if Squall had any idea how horny those short, clipped, phrases were, half desperate plea and half cool command.

Then the meaning of Squall's words sank in, and startled him a little. Nobody but Yohji had ever…

He imagined what it might feel like, Squall's hot length sliding inside his body, and his heart skipped.

He swiftly wrapped his wet fingers round Squall's cock and stroked the gel into his silky skin, gently unhooding him to douse the head, purple and leaking. Squall bit his lower lip, eyes shut, either concentrating on the sensation or trying not to come, Aya couldn't be sure which. He held out his hand for the lube and Aya handed it over, leaning back a little to allow Squall to reach between his thighs and slick past perineum and into his anus, circling with one finger a few times before gently entering him. Aya held his breath as Squall thoroughly slicked the lube around his entrance and just beyond, thrusting deeper with little squelching sounds that caught Aya's breath in his throat.

Squall flipped the tube shut and tossed it back to the bed, landing it neatly without hitting Irvine or Yohji; he turned cloudy, almost-blue eyes back to Aya.

"Okay?" he asked, sounding almost uncertain.

Aya pulled him close in response, kissing him deep, hitching one knee up to Squall's waist. Squall groaned and picked Aya up easily; his lean frame completely belied the strength of those arms; Aya suddenly knew for certain that he wasn't the only one of them who had handled a sword. He found himself easily supported as he leaned back into the wall and let himself be lowered onto Squall's cock, breathing out slowly as he felt the heat nudging at his entrance, relaxing, sheathing Squall's slick erection with hot muscle.

He wrapped his legs around Squall's waist and licked his lips, sighing softly, his mind melting into pure sensation, thought gone at last as Squall started to fuck him.

* * * * * * *

Yohji slowly became aware of three things. Firstly, it was too early to be awake; he knew what noon felt like, and this wasn't it. Secondly, there was a noise somewhere in the room that had woken him, and he was cross with whoever had made it. Thirdly, he had an early morning hard-on that was burrowing uncomfortably, although at the same time pleasantly, into the mattress, and he felt a sudden need to do something about it.

He could feel a warm body next to him, but he knew without looking that it wasn't Aya.

He opened his eyes, noted the tousled auburn hair spilling over the pillow next to him, and drifted his gaze across the room to find the reason for his disturbed sleep.

It didn't take him long to work that one out: he heard the steady thud of Aya's head banging softly against the wall before he really had time to register why it was doing so. His eyes blinked to full wakefulness as his bleary mind processed the sight before him: Aya's long limbs wrapped around a body as pale as his own, fingers buried in dark chestnut hair, lips moist and softly parted, the barest sigh escaping with each thrust as he was fucked slowly into the wall.

"Oh God," Yohji growled, "oh, fuck…"

Then he made the transition to fully awake, and started to scramble out of bed, crawling over Irvine's protesting body.

"Hn." Irvine grunted, trying to snuggle Yohji even as he extricated himself from Irvine's limbs and swathes of sheet. "C'mere. Cold. Lonely…"

He sat on the edge of the bed, momentarily distracted by the sight of Irvine as he clutched a pillow to his chest and settled back to sleep, a slightly discontented expression on his face. Yohji shook his head, memories of last night gradually coming back as he recalled the sight of that lean body in action, thrusting into him and… Aya and Squall. Fucking. Without him. No fair…

"Aya…"

He got up, not sure what the balance between lust and anger was in his mind, and not awake enough to choose. He started at the feel of a grip on his left wrist.

"Yohji, come back to bed."

He spun back and glared at Irvine, who looked steadily at him through strands of copper, instantly awake.

"Irvine…" he growled.

"Yohji, it's alright. Come back to bed."

Yohji sat back on the bed, shoulders slumping a little.

"But Aya…"

"It's okay," soothed Irvine. "Come here."

"I…"

Irvine was behind him, pressing expert thumbs into the tense muscles of his upper back. "Shh… you remember, last night?"

"Of course, but…"

"Don't they look beautiful together?" His voice was as soft and smooth as his breath on Yohji's neck.

"Yes, but…"

"You'll get your turn," Irvine said, laughing gently. "It's too late to join in, they'll be done soon. Leave them be."

Yohji could see what he meant: Aya's teeth were gritted with his impending orgasm, Squall's hand flying over his erection with a speed and agility only made possible by the complete absence of conscious thought.

"It's okay, Yohji. We're okay."

Yohji started to relax a little, leaning into Irvine's skilled touch. He curled his fingers around his own twitching cock, absently stroking as he watched Aya come, clutching desperately at Squall's shoulders, his face buried in dark hair.

"Aya never… he never got fucked. Before me," he murmured. "I was the only…"

Irvine's eyes widened. "Oh. I see. Well, Squall has a way about him, you know?" He cast his mind back a year or so, to a car in the middle of the Estharian plains. A lifetime away.

"I can see that," said Yohji, watching Squall push Aya hard against the wall with a harsh cry as his hips worked through his orgasm. Irvine was right, they did look beautiful. The jealousy faded towards pride, as Yohji reminded himself that Irvine and Squall were temporary: there was no way they could be allowed to remain in their lives, however tempting it might be. Aya was his, and no passing dalliance with a foreigner was going to change that, not after all they'd been through.

They had collapsed into each other now, panting hard. Squall helped Aya to standing, foreheads leaning together, smiling tiny smiles at each other.

"You could have woken us," Yohji said, his voice carefully seated in his teasing, flirtatious tone.

Both heads snapped round in surprise, identical expressions of alarm on their faces.

"I think you'd better come back to bed," Irvine added, kissing Yohji's neck softly as he finished his shoulder massage. "We were getting lonely."

"Hn." Aya pulled a towel out of a dresser drawer and started to clean them both up. Irvine settled back on the bed, watching Yohji carefully. He found himself fascinated by the glimpses of the complex relationship between these two men, and began to wonder about the history that must lie between them.

Yohji rejoined him as Squall and Aya finished cleaning up, sharing a soft kiss that made even Irvine a little jealous. Yohji was looking distinctly sulky, even as Aya came back to lie beside him, curling up against his side, sleepy and contented. Squall slipped in next to Irvine with a smile, and a quick kiss to his cheek.

"Anyone seen my cigarettes?" There was a catch to Yohji's voice, a slightly plaintive quality that sent a flicker of annoyance across Aya's face.

"You don't need one," he said. "Go to sleep."

"That's all very well for you," Yohji pouted. "_Somebody_ woke me up, getting fucked into the middle of next week at full volume. I'm all wide awake now."

Aya snorted unsympathetically. "You'll manage," he said.

"You're a cold, uncaring bastard," said Yohji.

"Yes," Aya replied. "Go to sleep."

"Can't."

"Won't, more like."

"I only want one cigarette."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"I bet I know something that would shut you up a whole lot faster."

There was a pause.

"What?" asked Yohji eventually, curiosity plain in his voice.

Aya didn't answer him, sliding slowly down the bed instead.

"Oh," sighed Yohji, "oh, lover…"

Aya started to lick little circles around Yohji's hip bone, tracing the other in matching swirls with one finger.

"Aya… oh, fuck, _Ran_…"

Irvine and Squall found themselves entranced, as Aya slowly dragged his wet tongue across Yohji's hard belly towards his cock.

Irvine realised he'd stopped breathing as Aya paused, gripping Yohji's hips with both hands now, his lips no more than half an inch from the straining head of Yohji's erection. He looked up at his lover with clear lavender eyes, scarlet hair falling around his face as a ragged frame, one eartail tickling Yohji's belly, making the muscle quiver.

"Ran, I… "

"Yours," Aya whispered, "Only yours. Itsumo." He slowly dipped his head, swirling his tongue around the head of Yohji's cock to gather up precome before sliding firm lips down the length of him, opening his throat to take him all at once, in one slick glide.

Squall gave a little moan and started to move on all fours across Irvine to join them, but Irvine caught him firmly, his strong hands around Squall's waist, and pulled him back. "No, babe. Leave them to it."

Squall looked at Irvine over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow, questioning.

"They need time together," Irvine suggested. "And besides, it's my turn."

"Yes, but…"

"No buts, babe." Irvine pulled Squall on top of him, laced his fingers in Squall's already-tangled hair. "My turn."

He drew Squall's head down to kiss him, sliding his tongue straight inside Squall's mouth, tasting Aya there. He grunted and took the kiss deeper, harder, driven suddenly by a possessiveness he rarely felt. He was dimly aware of Yohji writhing next to him as Aya sucked and licked him, but they were quickly forgotten as he felt Squall's cock stirring against his belly, Squall's hair falling across his face. His body was warm and familiar and responsive, he ran long fingertips down Irvine's spine and along the crack of his ass, teasing the soft skin around his anus, making his balls ache. He watched as Squall brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them slowly between his lips, wetting them thoroughly with his tongue before he returned them to Irvine's butt, sliding straight inside to the second knuckle as Irvine arched his back, pressing his hardness against Squall's belly.

Watching Squall come inside Aya's convulsing body, enjoying the play of Yohji's muscles under his fingers, knowing that even now Aya was teasing Yohji to distraction with his tongue, Squall's fingers steadily fucking him and watching him with an air of smugness about his soft grey eyes: all of these things were ganging up on Irvine's stamina, and he knew he was about to come.

He took Squall by surprise, taking him almost roughly by the shoulders and pulling him up his body until they were face to face; then he rolled them both over, settling his knees between Squall's thighs, and moved his own hand down to his cock, stroking himself with a steady rhythm as Squall wound his arms around his neck and kissed him.

At the first touch of Squall's tongue to his Irvine's balls tightened and his cock started to convulse. He caught his spurting semen in one hand, spreading it smoothly over his cock, letting the orgasm wash over him, breathing deeply. Squall's breath hissed out between his teeth as he realised what Irvine was planning to do, and he fumbled briefly on the bed before he found the lube.

"Please?" he whispered, looking suddenly vulnerable.

"Of course," Irvine husked, "don't be silly, I'd never hurt you."

Squall relaxed a little, wondering briefly why he'd ever doubted Irvine's gentleness, then he caught the look in his lover's steady violet eyes and realised what it was. There was a fire there, a need, almost, that he hadn't seen before.

Irvine prepared him quickly, the lube pleasantly cool against Squall's burning skin. He put one hand to each of Squall's knees, folding his legs back easily.

He paused.

"Ran… oh, fuck, Ran… yes… I'm… God… Ran…" Yohji arched and thrust into Aya's mouth, coming so deep in his throat that Aya had to draw back a little to make sure he got some to taste; and then Yohji was whimpering softly, and Aya knelt and scooped Yohji's limp body into his arms, rocking him gently back and forth, whispering in his ear.

Irvine and Squall were oblivious to this, however.

Irvine pushed slowly inside Squall, an inch at a time, holding his gaze, until he was buried to the hilt; he gave a brief grunt as Squall clenched his muscles around him.

"Just so you know, babe," he whispered, taking a moment to brush dark bangs back from Squall's face. "I don't mind sharing, but you're _mine_."

"Of course," Squall smiled his tiny lopsided smile, the one Irvine could never resist. "Always."

Irvine grinned back, his face lighting up with hazy lust and affection, and he started to move, adjusting the angle of his thrusts until he got it just how Squall liked it, long and hard. He took Squall's cock lovingly in his hand, stroking steadily from root to tip, shook his head so his hair fell over Squalls face and chest, tickling him just a little.

Squall was lost in passion now, the other Squall, not the taciturn commander, but the soft, sensual creature who writhed under Irvine's body, stretching and arching with pure, lascivious pleasure. Beautiful. Perfect. _His_.

He picked up the pace a little, stroking the silky length in his hand a little more firmly, knowing Squall couldn't last much longer: the familiar flush was spreading up his chest and throat, and his balls were tight; he fought it briefly, his eyes open for a moment, as if by holding Irvine's gaze he could somehow prolong the almost-there pleasure, the delicious anticipation. But he couldn't for long, and erupted over Irvine's grip, warm wetness coating his fingers. The slick heat of his body convulsed around Irvine's own erection, and while he could have lasted through it he chose instead to give in, to let Squall's pleasure take him over the edge and milk his seed from him, sending his mind blank, aware only of his throbbing heartbeat and shuddering muscles, oblivious even to the scream of Squall's name that escaped from his soul.

He rested his head on Squall's shoulder, panting for breath.

"I love you," Squall whispered, the warm brush of his lips tickling Irvine's ear.

"Me too, babe," he gasped. "Always."

* * * * * * *

Squall stirred. He was warm, sunlight pattering his skin in streaks of pure golden heat. A leg was nestled along the length of his own, and a head burrowed against his other side. There was a grumbling, and a sigh, and an arm suddenly landed across his belly, draping his hip and brushing perilously near his sleeping cock.

He stretched, carefully, not opening his eyes to see who had landed where. He was sore, a delicious soreness of fucking and having been fucked. He needed a shower. He'd missed this. His head rolled to the side, scrubbing his hair across the smooth pillow. His stomach growled. He knitted his brows thoughtfully; when _was_ the last time he'd eaten?

Another sleeping sigh, this from the other side of the bed, and he felt only the shifting of the mattress as someone else stirred. The leg had migrated to lie across his thighs. His arm was beneath a broad back, and seriously lacked in feeling.

He opened his eyes.

Light spiked to the center of his skull, but he'd endured worse. The light spilled amber across the bare white ceiling, casting soft black shadows around the still ceiling fan. A warm wind stirred the blades; someone had left a window open. Squall stretched again, feeling the strain in thighs and back and the burn in his bad shoulder where Ultimecia had impaled him on an icicle. He sighed, and worked an arm free to brush the hair out of his face and worry at the scar between his eyes.

Last night -- and this morning -- had been utterly delicious. He felt a smile curl his lips, and struggled up to rest on his elbows, feeling a definite 'king of all he surveyed' vibe as he watched the sprawled, stirring figures. His smile widened. Rinoa would definitely accuse him of leering . . .

His smile faltered, fell.

Rinoa.

He looked to Irvine's hand, clasped possessively about his hips like a child's grip on a stuffed Chocobo. Irvine had missed this too, Squall knew, the surfeit of love, the guarantee of companionship. The utter exhaustion of being fucked silly by multiple lovers. Irvine had been enough for Squall, once they were alone, but… Squall knew he hadn't been enough for Irvine. Not with his sulks and his slow but sure retreat back into his 'Ice Prince of Balamb' shell. He scowled. Irvine deserved better. He'd promised to take care of the cowboy, should anything happen. And he hadn't. He hadn't taken care of him at all.

Of course, he also hadn't anticipated this particular circumstance when he'd made that promise.

But that promise still stood. And he'd found someone for Irvine, hadn't he? Two someones. He managed a slight chuckle, feeling his spirits rebound even without Irvine's intervention as he suddenly recalled fucking Aya against the wall.

Even that caused a brief pang. He was saying goodbye to Rinoa, he understood that much. So… _this_ was what resignation felt like. He'd never actually given up before, even if only for the moment. Almost… It could almost be confused with contentment, he thought, staring at the vivid crimson of Aya's hair, tangled as it was with Irvine's darker auburn strands.

He smiled then, a little sadly. He understood these two men, these false florists. He felt like he knew them from their souls. It was like a weight he hadn't been aware of carrying had been lifted from his chest then. This could work. Until they found a way back…

They could be happy here.

But first, he needed a shower.

* * * * * * *

  
The Koneko was quiet, caught in the full light of an early sun. The schoolgirls wouldn't be by for hours yet. It was a Saturday. That meant cram school, at least until the afternoon. Ken smiled to himself, swinging the empty flower basket by its handle, musing absently over the strange church lady. Ruth . . .

Ruth had been an odd one, but somehow she'd reminded him of someone, of some long-ago memory that was plaguing him even as he entered the Koneko with a cheery "Taidama!" for Omi, who smiled in reply from behind the counter. They had a customer. Ken sidled over to the kitchen door, feeling in need of Gatorade after the lengthy walk and repeated molestations. He'd almost made it when Omi caught his eye, and waved him over.

"Thank you, and your order will be ready by Thursday," Omi said brightly, smiling at the blushing woman and closing the register as Ken approached. The woman bobbed her head, tucked a loose strand of hair behind one ear as she smiled, and left. Ken glared after her. Lech. She was old enough to be Omi's mother . . .

"Ken-kun," Omi said plaintively. Ken's head snapped around, and his heart sank. He had the feeling that Omi had said his name more than a few times.

"Yeah, Omi?" he asked. "What'd you need? I'm really thirsty."

"Ken-kun, you _know_ I have cram school today!" Omi wailed. Ken ducked his head. He _had_ forgotten. Crap. "I've already missed the first hour, and I'll be late for Geopolitics if I don't hurry."

"Aww, Omi, can't you just skip one day? It's not like you need those classes," Ken grumbled, moving around the counter to retrieve his apron. He was draping it over his head when Omi threw the watering can at him. "Ah! Damnit, Omi, what was that for?" he yelled, staggering back a few steps as he struggled out of the soaking apron.

"I thought you knew how much school meant to me, Ken," Omi said, his voice dangerously quiet. Ken gulped. "You know that the teachers start to worry if I miss too much school. Now don't you think it would be better for me to go when I can in case a mission requires me to be absent?" Omi asked, smiling with deceptive sweetness as he thrust home his argument with inescapable logic.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Omi," Ken said miserably, going belly-up instantly as he felt cold water drip down his back and begin pooling at his feet. "Let me just get something to drink really quick, and I'll be right back-"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Omi asked, apparently still pissed. Ken flinched, and raised his brows in a question. "You have all this water to clean up."

"Aww, c'mon," Ken protested, absently wringing water out of the apron. "You can spare a few minutes, anyway. And why can't Yohji or Aya help out? What's so urgent they couldn't have covered my shift?" he asked, beginning to get angry.

"Oh, I . . ." Omi stammered, suddenly losing his anger in a wash of crimson. "They were, umm . . . Up all night," he said quickly, as though rushing to get it over with.

Ken's brows shot up again.

"Oh!" he said, in the voice of one who's worst suspicions were confirmed. "They were up all night _fucking_ so obviously they can't be bothered to help us out down here!" His voice had raised steadily with each word, until he was shouting at Omi, who was frantically trying to shush him. "They never do a bit of work, Yohji's _always_ dragging Aya off in the middle of his shift, we can't get a damn thing done _ever_ and _what_ is it?! Afraid they'll hear me? What?!"

"Customer," Omi said in his smallest voice. His eyes were huge in his scarlet face.

Ken swallowed.

"Customer?" he squeaked. Omi nodded. Ken felt his face flush, no doubt crimson, and turned slowly, suddenly terrified that Ruth had come back for another bunch of flowers, and--

There was no one there.

Omi collapsed behind the counter, laughing.

Ken felt the muscles in his jaw begin to tick.

"Omi?"

"Yes, Ken-kun?" Omi gasped out between laughs.

"I hate you," Ken growled, watching the chibi laugh helplessly, as he hadn't in months. Ken began to smile. A chuckle built in his chest, burst free. Soon he was on the floor with Omi, both hysterical.

"Oh your face!" Omi cried.

"I ought to kill you," Ken returned, giggling madly.

"That was so great," Omi said, laughter winding down as he caught his breath. He was smiling at Ken, a big, open, guiless smile that Ken couldn't help but return. Then he coughed.

"Damn, chibi," he gasped. "Now I really need that drink."

"Go on," Omi said, still grinning. "That was more than worth missing another cram session for."

"Gee, thanks," Ken said, swatting at Omi as he climbed to his feet. Omi dodged the idle blow easily, and watched him into the kitchen with a faint, but definite smirk.

* * * * * * *

Squall stepped out of the shower with a slight sigh of contentment, stretching lazily into the scrub of cloth against belly and back and down his legs, shaking out his wet hair on the tiled floor while he was bent over. He towelled his hair briskly as he straightened up, flicking one end against his shoulder to catch a stray droplet of water. His brows flickered, his scar creased between his clouded eyes. His earlier optimism seemed to have washed away with the smell of sex, and he wiped clear a streak of steam-covered mirror without much enthusiasm, towel falling limply around his shoulders.

Nothing was certain. How could he have been so sure? He shook his head, scowling faintly as he pirated a toothbrush and some gel. Scrubbing his teeth took moments, and he spat and rinsed and wiped away a fleck of stray foam and felt his heart trying to break. He stood there for a long moment, hands gripping the towel so tightly that his knuckles bleached white. Shove it down, shove it down, just shove this down, whatever it was.

He'd never been very good with emotions.

The room was just as warm and light-filled and the bed just as inviting, but he walked past heavily on cat-feet, his shoulders straight but his eyes darkened and his soul misted over. His stomach growled, and he sighed, snagging his favorite pair of leather jeans from a tangle in the far corner and pulling them over his slick skin as he staggered into the hallway. The door safely closed behind him, he clenched one fist, letting his eyes squeeze shut against the rising pain.

Not this again. Irvine needed _him_, damn it, not this. Not the doubts and the pain and the Hyne damned _shell_.

His hands were trembling faintly as he glided down the stairs, but he paid them no mind. He needed food. The kitchen was directly at the bottom of the stairs, he remembered. Surely a bit of poaching would go unnoticed, he rationalized, deciding that if Aya were awake then he would definitely invite them to stay for breakfast.

The kitchen was empty, and he padded in on bare feet, jeans unbuttoned, hair tangled and left morning wet. He felt a yawn coming, and stopped walking to indulge the stretch, rolling out his pink tongue like a cat, working the stiffness out of his bad shoulder and then scratching lightly at the pink skin there as he opened the first cabinet. Dishes. He 'hn'ed and pulled out a bowl, then closed the cabinet and opened the next. More dishes. The cabinet over the range top held a multi-colored array of cereal boxes, and Squall's face relaxed into a smile as he pulled each box out far enough to read its title.

He settled on something called Fruity Pebbles, a box brighter than the rest covered in foreign characters and oddly dressed men. It looked at least somewhat healthier than the other choices. He felt his lips quirk into a genuine grin as he imagined Aya shopping for such foods. Yohji he could readily imagine demanding exactly this, but Aya . . .

His grin faltered, and he let the box drop to the table. He eyes fell shut again, but he wrenched them open and stepped quickly to the refrigerator for a carton of soy milk, closing the door harder than necessary and flooding his cereal before he noticed. He set the carton of milk down gently, and stepped over to the counter to look for a spoon.

Not this again.

The eating utensils were beside the sink. Squall gripped his spoon tightly, feeling something unsettled rise within him. Something was off. Something was unsettled about this whole business. He needed to . . .

His head came up. Laughter. In the front room, the store, the dark shadowed entrance where the flowers must be. They'd come in the back last night.

The laughter died down, and he went back to his flooded cereal, throwing the spoon in the bowl and watching it settle with a half-spin, milk splattering the tabletop, and parti-colored bits of cereal. He snorted.

A footstep in the shop doorway, and he turned to face the entrance, unconsciously falling into his usual combat stance. His unfastened jeans were forgotten as adrenaline flooded his veins, tightened his breath and dilated his pupils until his eyes were a thin rim of silvering blue, nearly swallowed in black. A stranger stepped into the kitchen.

Squall stared at him, taking in brown eyes and hair, soaked shirt and strong forearms in a quick flicker of silvering eyes. The stranger stared at him for a long moment, then scowled, stepping forward into a threatening posture.

"Who the hell are you?" The man asked, his hands coming up in a loose fighting position that Squall recognized from Zell's favored stance. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He felt his lip curl into a snarl, and stepped back, manoeuvring for room. This man was positioning himself for a rush.

"I was invited," he said carefully, watching the shoulders beneath the soaked shirt for sign of what the boy would do. The shoulders tensed at his words, and he stepped back again. He hit the table, and froze.

"Sure," the boy growled, stepping forward again, body sort of hunching down around his center of gravity. Squall stepped forward to clear the table, set himself, and then--

"Ken, no!" Squall heard the wail as another boy ran into the kitchen, but didn't let it distract him as a fist flew toward his face, which he dodged, followed by a spin kick that caught his shoulder, staggering him.

The second punch caught him square on the chin.

He fell back a few steps, his hip catching the sharp corner of the kitchen table. His bowl of cereal rocked, and slopped bright flecks across the Formica. There was a sort of shocked silence from the two boys, during which he heard his lover clatter down the back stairs, closely followed by Aya and then Yohji. The dark-haired boy was glaring at him, looking confused and angry, as though he'd expected Squall to go down right away, and extremely territorial.

Squall put his thumb to the spatter of blood at his lip. He knew his eyes were silver.

The boy, this 'Ken' moved forward, liquidly enough, with none of the wasted movements that Zell favored, meant to dazzle and distract. This boy was straightforward, and Squall didn't wait for his attack this time, seeing the violence in those dark eyes well enough. This boy was a berserker, or would be. Those eyes would shine amber one day, flush with his own madness. Squall felt his lips curl into a snarling grin, challenge lighting his silvered eyes.

Then Ken was sweeping forward, and Squall dove beneath a swift combination to drive his bad shoulder into the other boy's middle, sharp bone sinking into the flesh beneath curving ribs, sending them both to the floor. The breath _oof_ed out of Ken on a long burst, and Squall ignored the fist in his back and elbow to his side, narrowly avoiding a knee to the groin as he fought for position.

The martial artist should have been at a disadvantage on the ground, but this wasn't Squall's forte either, and it was a desperate scrabble until he'd planted his knee in the other boy's sternum, wrist caught by a planted foot, one hand pinning the left wrist and the other buried in the stretched cords of Ken's bared throat.

He bore down. Ken writhed suddenly, and a knee caught his lower back, sending him sprawling into the cabinets. His blood smeared the glossy white paint crimson. He heard Irvine's voice, a simple reminder that he had backup if needed. Squall shook his head to clear it, got a foot beneath him, and launched himself at the other boy from his crumpled position on the floor. His tackle hit Ken mid-shin, knocking the boy down on top of him. He surged up, hooked an arm around Ken's throat, and curled down so that Ken was bent nearly double.

Ken wheezed, bucked once, and was still.

"Squall?" Irvine's voice. The others were silent. Time sped up again.

He looked up, chin pressed tight to the shorter boy's tufting brown hair. "Irvine?" he panted, only now feeling strained ribs and the pulsing spike of torn muscles. He met Irvine's violet eyes, feeling a ribbon of blood slide wetly down his side as Ken stirred again in his hold.

"He's not an enemy," Irvine said, smiling a little as he stepped forward, unfastened belt jangling with his every movement. "Aya says this is how he greets everyone new."

"New?" Squall questioned, relaxing his grip slightly as Ken began to choke. The other boy, the young one, also stepped into the kitchen, eyes large and worried and very blue.

"Hai," the boy said, smiling apologetically. "It's just how Ken is. I'm sure he'll apologize, if…" The boy trailed off, and Aya stepped off the last step into the kitchen, scowling blackly. Squall caught the glare, and released Ken slowly, standing and backing into Irvine's embrace as he felt the doubts swim up out of the clean combat glow. This boy had been a friend. Aya would …

Help kick his ass, apparently. Squall watched with stunned bemusement as the 'florist' first helped Ken to his feet, and then smacked the side of his head hard enough to stagger him. "Ken no baka," Aya muttered, before turning to Squall.

"You have an unusual style of fighting," Aya said, new respect lightening the fury in his violet eyes. Squall shrugged, winced, and leaned back into Irvine's arms as the cowboy's grip tightened. Ken was glaring at the two strangers over Aya's shoulder, while the younger boy fussed over his wounds.

"Yeah," Yohji chimed in, still leaning calmly against the doorframe. "Ken knocked Aya on his ass the first time they met."

"Shi-ne!" Aya growled, turning to Yohji. Squall felt a smile, honest and amused, crook his lips.

"Did you have your sword when he attacked?" Squall asked.

Everything froze. Ken and the boy were staring at him in horror. Aya and Yohji exchanged a sheepish glance-- well, Yohji's eyes were faintly chagrined. Aya was ice.

"How did you know?" the boy asked. "Aya?"

"He didn't have to tell us," Irvine said, sounding annoyed. "We're neither one stupid."

"I recognize myself in you," Squall clarified, catching Aya's blank glare. "If I hadn't spent the last few years training with Zell every week, then… Ken, is it?… would have defeated me unarmed."

"Yeah, Hidaka Ken," Ken volunteered, stepping forward. One forearm braced his ribs, and his voice was hoarse. "This is Tsukiyono Omi, and who are you?"

"Squall Leonhart, and Irvine Kinneas," Irvine returned, the humor draining from his voice as he continued. "What exactly did you think you were doing, attacking an unarmed man with no provocation?"

"Hey, how do you know he didn't provoke me?" Ken demanded, sounding highly miffed.

"Squall?" Irvine laughed. "He doesn't even speak to most people, much less begin with taunting them."

"Thanks," Squall muttered, ducking his head so that he was glaring at Ken through jagged bangs.

"Well, I didn't know him!" Ken said hotly. He turned to Aya. "I can't believe this is what you were doing last night, when Omi needed you this morning. Is that your loyalty? You don't _know_ them, neither of them should be here!"

Nearly everyone attempted to reply at once, Omi saying "Ken!" in a shocked voice, Irvine beginning with "What business is it of yours?!" and Yohji bursting into laughter. Squall was silent, watching everyone and then--

"Everyone _shut up_!" Aya yelled. And strangely, at least to Squall's way of thinking, everyone became immediately silent.

Aya stalked back into the center of the room, fixing Ken with a glare full of intent.

"That is not your decision, Hidaka," Aya said, voice low and deadly. "Yohji and I cleared them, they are not your concern."

"You're kidding," Ken said, looking at the four of them with growing disgust in his eyes. "You picked up two strangers and _fucked them_ and now it's all okay?!"

"Ken-kun," Omi said urgently. Irvine's arms tightened around Squall's belly, comforting now.

Aya's jaw tightened, and he suddenly lashed out, backhanding Ken to the floor.

Omi stepped back. "Aya-kun," he murmured. Yohji said "Ran" once, sharply, but Aya held up his other hand, a signal to wait. Squall felt something like hope well beneath his heart. He shivered in Irvine's loosened grip.

"Who we sleep with is none of your business," Aya growled, glaring down at Ken's sprawled figure.

Omi gasped. "Then you _did_! I thought--" and he blushed crimson.

Yohji chuckled. "Sorry if you overheard, chibi," he said. Squall smiled faintly, heartened that at least this boy hadn't taken Ken at his word.

"I will sleep with whoever I please," Aya continued, ignoring the byplay. "If I say I trust these men then you would do well to respect that."

"You trust us, then?" Irvine said, his voice deceptively lazy and unconcerned. Aya paused, body tightening for a moment before he turned to face them. His eyes caught Squall's, and Squall shivered again beneath that violet gaze, feeling the sweat and blood drying on his exposed skin.

"Yes," Aya said, stepping closer, his hand reaching out to grip the side of Squall's neck in a familiar grasp. His fingers were warm. "I think . . . I feel I can trust you," he continued intently, thumb caressing the clean line of Squall's jaw.

"Yes," Squall breathed, losing himself in Aya's eyes, his arms tightening around Irvine's forearms where they were locked about his middle. "Yes," he said again, feeling that same sense of connection frissioning along his veins.

Aya broke the gaze, catching Ken's eyes as the boy levered himself to his feet, freezing Ken in place. "They're not a threat," Aya said plainly, something like a smile curving his lips. "They are not a threat."

Squall smiled.

"I'm glad that's settled," drawled Yohji lazily. "But I'm hungry. I don't think I've eaten in _days_." He raised one hand melodramatically to his forehead. "I need to keep my strength up, you know."

"I was going to make lunch," said Omi. "You'd be welcome to stay, Squall-san, Irvine-san."

"Thank you," said Irvine.

"You haven't tried Omi's cooking yet," said Yohji. "Or you might not be so quick to accept."

"Yohji-kun!" exclaimed Omi, outraged, and they settled to a banter that was clearly familiar to all four of them, part of a domesticity that Irvine was suddenly reminded that he sorely missed.

"I'll go mind the shop," Ken was saying, still eyeing Aya warily as he headed back towards the door. "Save me something, Omi?"

"It won't be busy for a while," said Omi. "Momoe-san can manage. Eat with us, Ken-kun?"

Ken looked all set to refuse, but refusing those huge, pleading eyes was as impossible as saying no to Selphie, Irvine realised. Cute, adorable even, but with a stubbornness behind them that you wouldn't want to mess with. Ken wilted, smiled despite himself, and set about helping Omi to clear up.

Irvine brushed his lips against Squall's ear, making him shiver. "Let's go upstairs and get dressed," he whispered.

Squall nodded, and while Omi bossed Ken, and Yohji delightedly located his cigarettes, Aya watched Squall and Irvine slip upstairs, wondering for a moment what exactly he'd just invited into their lives.

* * * * * * *

Manx punched the controls on the car radio yet again, fruitlessly searching for something she could listen to. There seemed to be a radio-driven conspiracy that ensured the whole of Tokyo should listen to nothing other than techno music until their brains dribbled out of their ears.

Actually, not so long ago that hadn't been so far from the truth.

She shuddered, and turned the radio off altogether.

There was a familiar rap on the passenger window, and she swiftly flipped the door lock to let Birman into the car.

"Hey, Manx. Any sightings?"

Manx shook her head, bright red curls rippling over her shoulders with the movement. "Just Ken getting near-cuddled to death by some woman." She grinned, a little maliciously. "Actually, that was worth seeing," she said. "He went a lovely shade of pink."

"I'm sorry I missed it," said Birman, with a chuckle. "No sign of the foreigners, then?"

"Nope. But then if everyone's favorite Kudoh Yohji picked them up, it could be a while before they surface."

"I still can't believe he managed to do that," said Birman, searching in her bag until she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and her lighter. "To pick up not just one, but both of them… I thought now he's with Abyssinian he'd have slowed down a bit."

"Maybe the exotic challenge was just too tempting for him. Besides, Abyssinian was there too. I just hope for their sakes they don't turn out to be targets. I'm not sure Balinese could cope with disposing of another lover."

"We'll see, when the time comes. _If _the time comes." Birman paused with her unlit cigarette halfway to her mouth. "Speaking of which, I do believe our suspects have emerged. And, oh my, but look what the cats dragged in…"

There was a short silence as the two women sat transfixed by picture in the rear view mirror, watching the pair emerging from the Koneko, blinking in the sunlight.

"Well," said Birman, finally remembering to light her cigarette. "You have to say this for Balinese. He has exquisite taste."

"Oh yes." Manx squinted through the tinted windscreen. "I'll have the brunette, you can take the red-head, if you like."

"Fine by me," said Birman. "He looks gloriously slutty. The dark one looks a bit broody for me."

"Who are we kidding?" sighed Manx. "They're obviously gay. We wouldn't stand a chance."

"Such a pessimist, my dear. Keep hope in your heart, and we may yet stand victorious."

"Providing they don't turn out to be targets," sighed Manx. "That would be such a waste."

"God, yes." Birman wound down the window just enough to flick her ash out of the top. "Well, it looks like they're on foot, wherever they're going." She zipped up her bag, and gave Manx a wink. "We'll just have to go and follow them."

Sometimes, Manx thought, as they got out of the car and fell in behind the two foreigners they'd been told to track, her job didn't suck. Walking down the street in blazing sunshine, watching the seductive sway of that perfect butt in tight leather pants, was definitely one of those times it didn't suck at all.

* * * * * * *

"What d'you want to do this afternoon, babe?" Irvine took a sidelong look at Squall, as they walked along in the sunshine. His friend was quiet, as ever, but not unhappy. Not unhappy at all.

"Don't mind, much," Squall said, lost in thought.

"We could go do some brooding, if you like," teased Irvine. "After all, we did my kind of thing last night."

That raised a smile. "It was good, last night," said Squall. "Did it make you happy?"

"_You_ make me happy, babe." Irvine slid an arm around Squall's shoulders.

Squall didn't say anything, but he pressed himself into Irvine's side in what felt like a pleased kind of way.

It had been good, thought Irvine. For the first time in a long while he'd felt he could see a future for them in this place, maybe even a home. It didn't feel quite so much like alien territory any more.

Whether they'd see Yohji and Aya again or not, he couldn't venture a guess. No plans or promises had been made, just vague intentions and an exchange of telephone numbers.

He realized he was still holding the business card Yohji had given him, caressing the embossed surface with his index finger as it lay in his duster pocket.

They finally reached the hotel; he held the door for Squall to go first, his eyes drawn for some reason to the reflection in the polished glass.

"Don't look now," he whispered in Squall's ear as they went inside, "but you could be in luck. There's a gorgeous red-head behind you who just can't take her eyes off your arse."

"A woman?" Squall looked curiously over his shoulder, but the door was already closing, and he couldn't catch so much as a glimpse.

"Well, a change is as good as a rest," Irvine smirked. "You know, babe, I'm starting to think I could feel at home here, after all."

"We'll have to think about getting a job," Squall said thoughtfully, thumb stabbing the call button as he scowled at it. "Security firms, I guess."

"I hate those," Irvine rifled through pockets for his keys as they waited for the lift. "Any other ideas?"

"Well," said Squall, with a sly grin, "we could always take up floristry."

Irvine laughed. "I can't see Ken offering us a job, can you?"

"Maybe not," Squall conceded. "But Aya would. And I think it's what Aya says that matters."

"Probably. You think he really trusts us?"

"Yes," said Squall, shivering at the remembered intensity of Aya's validation. "I do."

"Which means the next question is," said Irvine, settling steady violet eyes on silver, "should _we_ really trust _them_?"

There was a pause; the lift arrived.

"I think so," said Squall. "I'd like to," he added.

"Me too," Irvine admitted, following Squall through the elevator doors. "We'll just have to wait and see."


End file.
